


Blood Oath

by DeerHead



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, Trans Karkat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerHead/pseuds/DeerHead
Summary: Sometimes romance blooms in the strangest of places. For some people, it might be running into each other in the grocery store. For Karkat Vantas? It's while disposing a dead body.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	1. Fury

There were many things that could be said about Karkat Vantas. The chief of those things? He was passionate. Passionate about everything. And everything he felt, was well. More than many expected. His anger was all fury. His sadness all despair. Everything he felt, he felt to the nth degree, even when he tried to cover it up with surly snark and insults. He just felt a lot. And sometimes, those feelings got carried away.

It wasn’t that he meant it to happen. He just sometimes got blinded by emotion. A late-night argument over loud music quickly escalated in the parking lot. Words were said, tempers flared, and well. Karkat did not handle it as well as he could have. Which was a problem he often had. 

Honestly, if you asked him, he couldn’t tell you when he got the tire iron in hand. It was kind of cliche, wasn’t it? But the weight felt good. The rough grip. He had started to say something, that douchebag. Maybe it was a question? He didn’t listen. Instead, he just swung.

The first one was always the hardest. The one he actually felt. He almost expected to hear cracking. Or the impact of hitting something wet. But it was the metal that rang through, and his scream. Karkat almost laughed. He had been acting so tough, but when it came down to it? He screamed. Just like a child. He couldn’t have that though. Both hands gripped the iron and he swung again, this time hitting the base of the skull. [i]There[/i] was the crack he had been looking for.

Time lost meaning, and he continued until his arm was sore. Cracks and twangs turning into wet splats as what once was bone structure broke down to what people really were inside. Just meat. Meat and blood. Teeth littered the ground, bits of gore cloning to the now slick weapon in his hand. He slowed. Then stopped. Oh. 

Standing there, Karkat frowned, hands on his hips, staring at his current burden. Maybe he shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand. Really, it was the other guy’s fault. All he had to do was turn down the volume on his shitty speakers, and none of this would have happened.

He wiped sweat from his brow, the late summer heat getting to him, though only managed to smear blood across his forehead. Ugh. Great. The yellowed streetlamp above flickering, making his head ache as he surveyed the scene. It was not exactly looking good for him. The body of a 20 something male was slumped on the ground, severely beaten to death, skull caved in from blunt force trauma. Teeth, scattered everywhere. Blood was mostly contained to what was splattered across Karkat, what was pooling on the cracked asphalt, and of course, what clung to the weapon. 

He pressed his hands together, thinking it over. How was he going to do this? Walking over, he nudged the corpse, scowling at it. Stupid idiot. Now his night was ruined. Thankfully, loud music still pumped from the car, having not only drowned out their argument, but the sounds of a vicious beating. Opening the trunk, Karkat dug through it until he found some old jackets and towels. Carefully, he wrapped the body and dumped it in the trunk, before cleaning up what he could of the blood on the ground. A good spray was really all it needed, then it shouldn’t show any signs. Teeth were gathered one by one, like he was gathering spilt pearls. Neatly they were placed in the corpse’s pockets.

But what to do with the body. He couldn’t just leave it there, in the car. Eventually it would start to smell, and people would notice. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the man let out a sigh. Alright well. He knew a spot. Someplace secluded and not likely to be explored. He closed the trunk and went around to the driver’s side, sliding in. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t turn down the music yet. Instead, Karkat put the car into reverse, and got out of the parking lot.

It was only when he was about five minutes away that he turned off the stereo, letting quiet invade the car. One might think he would be panicking. Stressing over the fact that he just killed another human being. But well, this wasn’t the first time. Yes, Karkat tried not to make a habit of it. But well. Shit happened. He was just lucky he hadn’t been caught yet. The headlights and the moon above were soon the only light as Karkat left town. There was an old plant that had been half-demolished about fifteen miles away. 

It had come in handy before. There had been plans to turn it into something, but well. Land disputes had it wrapped in so much red tape it hadn’t been touched in years. And likely wouldn’t be touched any time soon. He kept his eyes on the road as he drove, feeling somewhat empty inside. 

When he got near the plant, he turned off the headlights, driving only by moonlight as he pulled in and hid the car under a large silo that had once held… Something. Honestly, Karkat wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even originally from this town. Shifting into park, he killed the engine and sat for a few moments. Ok. Now to dig a hole. Thankfully, tools had been left here when construction was brought to a halt, so Karkat didn’t need to bother getting his own. 

Gravel crunched under foot as he approached a good spot. He didn’t like burying the bodies too close. If more than one was found at a time, people started to suspect things like serial killers. Which he was not. Well, he didn’t *feel* like one. Serial killers had criteria. They had traits that followed from victim to victim. Karkat? Well he just got a little too angry and things just… Happened.

Using the shovel he had found, he started to dig into the dry, dusty earth, only to pause suddenly, back stiffening. Did he hear movement? He strained his ears, willing himself to hear more than he did. As if he could suddenly acquire some kind of supernatural ability. The scuff of shoes on dirt stopped. Or maybe it didn’t exist in the first place. Heartbeat quickened to the point where he could feel it pulsing on his tongue. 

The body was in the car, so as long as no one looked, he was safe. Unless they asked why he was out here. Why he was starting a fresh hole in the old, cracked dirt. Why his hoodie was spattered and sprayed with blood. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.


	2. "Meet Cute"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he wanted to do was bury a body in peace. If only Karkat was that lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... Chapter two? I didn't expect to write it so soon. But well. Shit happens. Brains don't shut up.

It was old. The handle of the shovel rough and splintering, and even though his hands were calloused, it still was uncomfortable. Yet he gripped it like his life depended on it. Adrenaline surged through him, and he was almost dizzy from it, quickened breath threatening to cause him to hyperventilate. He had to focus. Focus on the sound of dirt under shoes. The approach was slow. Meandering. He let out a slow breath, counting the seconds as it got closer and closer.

He had hoped to kill with his first blow.

Both hands wrapped around splintering wood, he brought the spade-shaped shovelhead down in an overhand strike with enough fury to lodge it into the ground. The clang of metal loud enough to put him on edge, as was the slipping and sliding sound of someone stumbling back. His vision blurred, all his effort having been spent on listening and swinging. Pale moonlight turned the ground into a smear of rocky grey with greyed out plants dotting here and there, more dead than alive.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention. 

Shoes. Converse, old ones that looked more threadbare than useful mere inches away from where he struck. Sides heaved with breath, eyes raking up over long legs to where he assumed a face would be. But instead he got caught on one detail. Light glinted off glass, a sliver of silver too bright in the night. A moment of confusion passed over Karkat, milliseconds stretching like saltwater taffy. Dark blocky shape. Glass… Camera.

“Mother _fucker_!” Great. Just what he needed. He surged forward again, using the flat of the spade now, but still didn’t manage to hit the lanky shadow of a person. They were quick on their feet, rolling out of the way and scrambling to their feet.  
“Hold still dicklicker and I’ll make this quick!” He wasn’t even thinking about his own words.

“Hey, waitwaitwaitwait!” Hands were held up as Karkat went to swing another strike.  
“I think you’ve got th’ wrong idea here.” Southern twang heavy in his voice. Eyes narrowed, Karkat squinting in the dark. He couldn’t see well enough to really get an idea of who he was talking to. He just knew they were lean, taller than he was, and a witness. Still, the stranger spoke faster than Karkat moved.

“I’m not here to follow you. Or snap a pic. Or anythin’ like that. Shit even if I did it’s darker than Satan’s asshole. Talk about a failure for mood lighting. Now I’m going to jump to so many conclusions you could give me the gold metal but hear me out.” He rambled, his words quick, slurring together slightly as he tried to get it all out at once.

“I’m here for the same reason you are bro. Dark. Secluded. Shit, so far off the radar it makes me look mainstream. So why don’t you lower that… Come on. Just. Lower the shovel. No need to go all Texas Chainsaw Massacre here when we could be more Will and Hannibal.” Despite speaking so quickly, his voice was deadpan. Flat as hell, with little tone in it. Something about that made the hair on the back of Karkat’s neck stand on end, but he was listening.

“First of all: Gay. Second of all give me two goddamned reasons I should not bludgeon you into a pancake right fucking now.” The shovel was lowered, but not let go. Karkat kept himself ready to lunge at any minute.

“You know, fair. Fair. But uhhh… Shit. From the start of the hole, and the uh, whole murder-frenzy thing, I have a feelin’ we’re on the same page. Taking care of trash, or something. Dropping loads. Wait no back up. I think you and I are both here for the same reason. It’s far away enough where no one will suspect shit, and we can dump some unfortunate accidents here without worry. Right? Right.”

The way he spoke made Karkat just want to snap at him, especially as he got more casual as the time went on. Still holding one hand up, the other man stepped back some to grab what he had been carrying. A trash bag. He held it up like a peace offering.  
“See? Same hat.”

Shovel was stabbed into the ground and Karkat leaned on it, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling audibly. Was this seriously happening? He couldn’t just dump a body in peace. No. This had to happen. Fuck him and fuck his luck. The other guy seemed to take this as an invitation to keep talking.

“We’ll just dispose of these and part like two ships in the night. It’s in the bro-code. Don’t snitch on your bro’s murderhole lest he snitch upon yours or some shit.” He made a hand signal with all but two fingers curled.  
“On my honor as a girl scout I won’t peep. You’ve got my ass locked up like Alcatraz. I’m Rapunzel up in this bitch. I’m-”

“Shut the _fuck_ up. I swear to god I’m going to kill you just to rid the world of your asinine ramblings. Do you even hear yourself or are your ears too clogged with your own bullshit?”

He laughed and approached Karkat some. Up close, he could see the shine of starlight on the guy’s aviators, his own dark reflection scowling back at him. Hand was offered, pale scars tracing over every finger and the back of the hand.

“ ‘Sup. The name’s Dave. I’ll be your Body Dumping Buddy for the evening. Keep close, we don’t want to piss off the teacher.” The cocky grin he flashed made Karkat groan, but he begrudgingly shook his hand.

“I swear if you fucking say a word about this I will hunt you down.” Another bark of laughter that made Karkat feel like an idiot.  
“Also give me one good reason not to smash the shit out of _that_.” He jerked a thumb at the camera that hung around Dave’s neck. Picking it up, Dave gave a cavalier shrug.

“Oh this? I guess you could say I fancy myself an artist.” As if that answered anything.  
“For real though dude, I won’t use it. It’s for personal records anyways.” The way he said it made Karkat give him an odd look. ‘Personal Records’? He was about to ask what it was before stopping himself. Time was ticking and they had bodies to take care of. Instead, Karkat pushed past him to return to the hole he was digging.

Instead of finding a way to help, Dave sat his happy ass on the ground, legs crossed and chin in hand.  
“So. First time? This pop your cherry? Baby’s first murder? Oh shit it is, isn’t it? Oh man. That’s fucking great. It’s amazing the first time, I mean that rush? You never feel it again, trust me.”

“It’s **not** my first time, asshole. I’m not fucking comparing numbers, this isn’t some schoolyard contest. Also are you going to help?” The glare Karkat shot Dave was enough to kill, but all Karkat got was his reflection. If Dave was phased, he didn’t show it. With each shovelful of dirt, Karkat’s shoulders ached more and more. The adrenaline of the kill was wearing off quickly and he was looking forward to a shower.

“You’re doing fine on your own, plus I already did enough work. You have no clue how hard was to dismember this guy. It’s like he didn’t even want to be cut up. Like sorry bro, I’m no chef. Maybe the knife wasn’t sharp enough. It was pretty messy at that point, you know? One wrong move and you sever an artery. And here I had thought my last girlfriend was a squirter.”

Karkat’s eye twitched slightly, but he focused on digging as Dave continued to ramble on. Time droned on, but eventually he had a deep enough hole to hide both without worrying about it being too shallow. He tossed the shovel out first, then hauled himself out to a whistle from his current accomplice.  
“Damn, got a permit for those guns? Oh man I bet the other guy looks like _shit_.”

Blood smeared and dirty, Karkat was losing patience. He didn’t even bother retorting to Dave though so many possibilities rose to the occasion. He had a body to deal with. His shirt clung to him some from sweat, and the idea of getting this over with so he could lay in his apartment’s AC was the main thing fueling him. Opening the trunk, he looked at the bundle that had been shoved in so hastily. The jackets and towels had soaked through in some places, but that was to be expected. Honestly, even if he was found, this douche wasn’t getting identified with any dental records.

He slung him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, returning to the hole, where Dave had already dumped his trash bag. With a grunt, he let the body drop into the hole with a meaty thud, dusting his hands off, even if it was more mud than dirt at this point. He took a moment to breath, all too aware of the fact that he was being stared at.

“Sooooo.” Fists clenched without even thinking at the sound of Dave’s voice.  
“How about we trade numbers. You know, in case this happens again. I mean, I don’t think murder sync is a thing, but hey. There’s only so many dumping places within 20 miles, and it’s not like the city’s not big enough for both of us.”

Was he actually suggesting some weird friendship based on their mutual tendencies? He shot a glance at Dave, who almost seemed to be trying too hard to seem casual.

“Not that you have to or anything. I just thought you know. Our passions align, and having someone to trade tips and tricks with might be useful. Plus I could use the help dismembering next time. It’s a bitch and a half.”

Grabbing the shovel, it almost looked like Karkat was going to ignore him. But after a few shovelfuls of dirt, he sighed heavily. This was the stupidest fucking idea ever. He new in the end, one of them would fuck over the other for some kind of plea or some shit. But Karkat wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

“The joints.”

“Dude, what?”

“The joints, asshole. Cut at the joints. Then stab them where they bend to make severing them easier. You’re going to look like a fucking idiot trying to break the bone in the middle.”

Karkat almost didn’t catch the slight smile Dave gave him.  
“Cool, cool. Hey, let me see your phone for a moment, so I can get my deets in.”


	3. Oh, So That's What Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now you get to figure out why Dave is dropping a body. Yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little scootch back in time to see how Dave found the need to dump a body.

He wasn’t someone you would pinpoint as a murderer. Wasn’t that always the case? The last person you suspect was horrible would be, well, horrible. Not that he considered himself _horrible_. To be fair, he saw it all as him doing a service for others. He was helping! Getting rid of insufferable pricks, one at a time. That was Dave Strider’s motto. On the outside he was calm and collected. Even possibly _cool_ if you were making snap judgements. The ever unflappable man, always there with sharp sarcasm, and a quick quip.

He was just… A guy. People seemed attracted to him, like moths to a flame. He was good at pulling off Charisma, seeming like an extrovert who enjoyed parties, people, and random flings. But really? That was far from the truth. He forced himself to go among people, mostly out of spite at himself. To ‘prove’ he could. Even though no one was judging him but himself.

The Bazaar was honestly not the greatest place to have a gig. It was cramped, there was always a musty smell about it, and Dave was _pretty_ sure it wasn’t up to code, building wise. But they paid, which was what mattered. They were one of the few places that hired him to do sets, since he wasn’t some big name drawing in crowds. Still, it was always good to be known, and seen around. Just in case. He was leaning on the bar, waiting for his payment when he spotted him. A shifty-eyed young man, probably just old enough to get in. Typical.

He looked away as a tall, slender woman approached, looking like a picture of the term ‘Cybergoth’.  
“Hey Cipher, how much did I get t’night?” He asks, flashing her a very small smile. The woman looked at him, her face reflected in his shades. His shield. His barrier.   
“Well Strider it wasn’t the biggest night. I mean look at this place? We’re getting poached left and right. But I have your standard fee here. Plus a few extra twenties from your tips.” She handed him the somewhat slim stack of cash, which he pocketed with a nod.  
“You know me. I’m not doin’ it for the money.” A lie, but it endeared him to her some.

He gave a casual goodbye and made his way through the crowd, slipping out. This was when his pace slowed some. He ambled. Looking around, as if trying to decide where to go. It wasn’t long until he heard the shuffle of someone attempting to be sneaky. Casually, Dave pulled out his phone, messing with it for a few moments before heading down a darker, less used street. He almost grinned when those shuffled sounds followed after him. He lingered, looking like he was squinting at a dark sign.

Then he felt it, the hand quickly reaching for his pocket. But Dave Strider wasn’t some easy mark. His reflexes were sharp, quick, and honed far more than your average joe’s. He grabbed the thief’s hand pulling him forward so he could lock his head under his arm. A strangled cry was all the other man got before Dave was squeezing his forearm against the man’s throat. It was the same shifty looking kid he saw in the club. Typical. 

“Not your day, it is?” He asked, though the guy could only make gurgled gasps as Dave kept the pressure on, no matter how hard he flailed or hit him. He shifted where he put pressure and tightened his grip, counting out the seconds until the body went limp. Not dead, but definitely not conscious. That was risky as hell. He was still in a somewhat open area, but he had to hope the late hour had most people inside. Still, when he started to take the man to his car, he had an arm slung over his shoulders, walking like his ‘friend’ was beyond drunk.

Now, Dave knew better than to kill in places people had seen him. That was beginner shit. He hummed to himself as he drove, the guy bound and gagged in the backseat with a blanket thrown over him. Fingers tapped out a beat on the steering wheel as he headed out of the city, far from where they had started. There were a few places that were good for this. He favored this… Half-Forest. He wasn’t even sure what the hell to call it. It was too small to be a proper forest in his mind. But there were still shit tons of trees and brambles. Plus it was near his usual dumping spot.

He turned his lights off far before he hit the dirt road leading to said ‘Forest’. Parking off to the side, he let the engine die, listening to the muffled sounds from the back seat.  
“I bet you’re hella uncomfortable. I’ll take care of that shit in a moment. It’s just a little walk.” He sounded far too casual for someone who had a man hidden in the back seat. He got out of the car and took a moment to gather his usual kit, before hauling the guy from the back seat. He took little care as he carried him into the forest which was a bit slow going as he was kicking and wiggling the whole way. Dumping him on the ground when he felt they were far enough inside the wooded confines, he turned and held his arms out with a grin.

“Here we go! Beautiful isn’t it? Shit, it’s down right picturesque. So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to sit there, and I’m going to get to work. Got it? I mean fuck, it’s not like you can do anythin’ else, right? Really. Who the fuck do you think you are just sneakin’ around and tryin’ to steal. I bet this was your first time, wasn’t it? Second? Well, either way it was shit. You were _shit_. Hellen Keller could have heard you from a mile away.” He spoke as he pulled things from the backpack he had grabbed. A few trash bags, a package of wet wipes. And a few different kinds of knives.

“Now how to do this…” He mused. He honestly would have liked to use a sword. It was his preference, after all. But swords weren’t something you could carry without attracting attention. So he had shifted to knives. Though Dave had been experimenting the last few kills.

Honestly, he wasn’t even in the mood to have fun with this one. It was late. And the guy didn’t look like he’d be all that entertaining to toy with. So he just grabbed one of the hunting knives he kept and got in close. Kneeling on the dirt, he grabbed the guy’s chin, forcing him to look at Dave.  
“Ok dude so here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to be _nice_ and do this quick, because I can already tell, dismembering you is going to be a pain in the ass.” He gesticulated with his other hand as he spoke, knife glinting in the slight moonlight that filtered through the trees. 

Rolling the guy onto his front, Dave straddled his back.  
“No homo bromo, you know how it is.” He said, grabbing a fistful of scraggly brown hair and yanking his head back. Knife was brought to his throat, and Dave got to cutting. It wasn’t like the movies where one swift cut took care of it. Blame it on laziness. He hadn’t sharpened his knife in a while. Also skin and muscle? Weren’t as easy to cut as one might think. He had to press hard, the guy’s muffled cries sounding way too loud as blood pounded in Dave’s ears. It was like cutting through frozen meat. The skin parted easy enough, but muscle was difficult. 

It wasn’t pretty.

Blood squirted out, less than movies showed, but more than enough to make the knife slippery and drench his hand as he drug the knife painstakingly over the guy’s throat as he tried to buck Dave off him, his cries quieting into a muffled gurgle as he started to choke on his own blood. Still he sawed until he got both arteries cut. It was kind of a gnarly mess. Not his best work by far. 

But even as the guy lay there bleeding out quickly, Dave got off his back and rolled him over, quickly grabbing something else from his kit. His camera.  
“Not the best lighting but it’ll do.” He mumbled to himself as he set up a few shots, snapping pictures, getting one close up enough to catch the guy’s eyes. He hung the camera around his neck and moved the body, hauling it over against a large rock and tipping the guy’s neck back before snapping a few more pictures of the wound.

Once he was satisfied, he stepped back and grabbed a trash bag. Time to get to the hard part. He knew just where to dump this trash, too. He had scoped it out a few weeks ago. It was perfect.


	4. The Art of Speechcraft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, we saw how Dave got his body. Let's see that disastrous meeting from his POV.

The problem with dealing with bodies was, humans were heavy. And they were sort of awkward. Long legs? Long arms? A lolling head? Ugh. No. They were a pain to carry. People really didn’t consider how heavy the body was when there were no muscles trying to help with holding parts up. So Dave did the sensible thing. He got to cutting.

Always start with the joints. It is easier to cut through a joint than try and saw through bone. Especially if, like Dave, you didn’t have a saw. He had a few good knives, or well. What he thought were good knives. But with the difficulty he was having? He was starting to think they were dulling a bit. It didn’t help that blood slicked blades were harder to use, and his hands kept slipping. God! One might also think this was his first time! How embarrassing that would be.

Eventually, he got through the difficult parts, and was starting to place everything in a trash bag and clean up. He’d have to burn these clothes. Good thing he had planned on hunting tonight, so he didn’t dress in something he liked. It was messy work, but rewarding in a way. At least, that was what he told himself. He was doing everyone a huge ass favor! A real man of the people! That was Dave Strider.

Now where to dump it? He thought that over as he cleaned himself up as best he could with some wet wipes. He didn’t want to stain the upholstery. So a towel was grabbed from the trunk as he packed up the trash bag. It was the best place to put them, after all, Dave didn’t want to be pulled over with a body in his back seat?

Then again, he was splattered with blood. So that might raise some kind of alarm alone. Thankfully, he was a good driver, and obeyed all the traffic laws! He wasn’t a _monster_ after all!

Taking a few seconds to clean his camera carefully, she was his baby and he didn’t want her getting all crusty with blood, Dave got into his car. Good news was, he knew a sweet little spot where people never really visited. It was a good one. He’d used it before, though, he tried to spread out his bodies. It was safer that way.

Starting his car, he hummed along with his music as he backed out of his stage, and got on the road. Lips twisted in a slight smile, the most emotion Dave really ever showed. There was no one to catch him, so he could drop the stony act. He was still getting used to being allowed to have emotions, and really, it was only after a kill that he really felt anything. Which some might term as a ‘problem’. But it made sense to him.

He felt calm. Calmer than he normally did. He spent his life analyzing those around him. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for an attack that would never come again. But after he took care of some scumbag? There was a serene peace that he never felt otherwise. Like for once, Dave didn’t have to be on edge. He didn’t need to watch the world with wary eyes and keep up the pretense of someone aloof and unfazed. He didn’t have to _be_ anyone but himself.

So yea, if he drove a bit slower, and really enjoyed himself, there wasn’t a problem. However, as he neared the plant, Dave killed the lights, the thought making him chuckle a bit. ‘Killed’. Hilarious. The dark made it so he didn’t see the fresh tire tracks. It made it so the only light he had was the watery moonlight, casting false shadows everywhere, enough to make someone feel they weren’t alone. But, well. That was preposterous! 

He’d park far away. It was a bit of a walk, but the copse of trees was good cover, and a car near the plant would be pretty fucking obvious. So he parked, getting out of the car and stretching with a groan. More hard work in his future. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he didn’t have to hide his evidence? Only in a perfect world.

He’d get the bag from the trunk and sling it over his shoulder with a grunt. Did this fuck somehow get heavier? Nah. Probably not. But it felt like it. Gaze set on the buildings, Dave would start the trudge towards the plant itself. He wasn’t even thinking of the kill. Actually, his mind was on his next set for one of the other clubs he worked at. It needed some fine tuning. A little bit of gloss. Then it would be perfect. It would be Strider worthy.

Gravel crunched under worn converse, the sound loud, but Dave didn’t care. He was sure he was alone, and didn’t expect other keen ears in the vicinity. So he didn’t worry. He walked slowly, ambling a bit as he tried to decide where to put this body. Maybe near the silo? Hm. Maybe in one of the decayed buildings. Some of those still had dirt floors. He was in mid thought when fine honed instincts alerted him that something wasn’t right.

He stopped on a dime, instantly starting to stumble back as the moonlight lit a blur that hit the ground before him with a clang that echoed in the dead air like the sound of a guillotine. Dave didn’t freeze though. The trash bag dropped from his hands. All at once he was on the roof again, Texas sun beating hot against the tarmac of the roof. The clang of metal was lighter, not the heaviness of a shovel being wielded as an axe, but of a thin, swift blade.

The only thought in his head was dodge. Bob. Weave. Move out of the way. Try and avoid new scars and stitches. But the sound of a scratchy voice drew him back to the present. It was another move back, shifting weight to turn away from the frantic swipe. He could do this all day. And the guy’s insult almost made him laugh. _Dicklicker_? Really?

But he worked fast, sized up the situation, and decided to make a move of his own. But Dave didn’t lash out. Instead, he raise his hands up in a gesture of peace, showing they were empty.  
“Hey, waitwaitwaitwait!” He had to make it fast. This guy didn’t seem to have much in the way of patience.  
“I think you’ve got th’ wrong idea here.” Lean on the accent. It endears people to you. 

The shadow before him was stark, but he was short. Stocky. And Dave could almost _feel_ the fury radiating off of him. So he had to calm him down first. Good thing Dave was good at talking. Even if he really never said much.  
“I’m not here to follow you. Or snap a pic. Or anythin’ like that. Shit even if I did it’s darker than Satan’s asshole. Talk about a failure for mood lighting. Now I’m going to jump to so many conclusions you could give me the gold metal but hear me out.”

He rambled, speaking so fast words were slurring some. Making him more human? Yea. He hoped so. Though he doubted this guy cared.  
“I’m here for the same reason you are bro. Dark. Secluded. Shit, so far off the radar it makes me look mainstream. So why don’t you lower that… Come on. Just. Lower the shovel. No need to go all Texas Chainsaw Massacre here when we could be more Will and Hannibal.”

He kept his tone flat. Voice empty. No emotions for this guy to bounce his off of. Just words, and nothing else. So he had to focus on them, even if Dave was spouting a lot of nonsense.

“First of all: Gay. Second of all give me two goddamned reasons I should not bludgeon you into a pancake right fucking now.”

He almost laughed. Cute. But that shovel was brought up _again_. Jesus this guy was a little violence happy. He just had to keep talking. If he kept talking, he’d be distracted.

“You know, fair. Fair. But uhhh… Shit. From the start of the hole, and the uh, whole murder-frenzy thing, I have a feelin’ we’re on the same page. Taking care of trash, or something. Dropping loads. Wait no back up. I think you and I are both here for the same reason. It’s far away enough where no one will suspect shit, and we can dump some unfortunate accidents here without worry. Right? Right.”

He took a step back, grabbing his trash bag and holding it aloft.  
“See? Same hat.”


End file.
